But thirty-five years of evil life are hard to neutralize.  There is but one subtle elixir that can do it—­love; and I had not thought of that magic remedy with respect to Madge.

I hurriedly fetched my hat and returned to the foot of the staircase.  Within a minute or two Madge came down stairs holding up the skirt of her gown with one hand, while she grasped the banister with the other.  As I watched her descending I was enraptured with her beauty.  Even the marvellous vital beauty of Dorothy could not compare with this girl’s fair, pale loveliness.  It seemed to be almost a profanation for me to admire the sweet oval of her face.  Upon her alabaster skin, the black eyebrows, the long lashes, the faint blue veins and the curving red lips stood in exquisite relief.  While she was descending the stairs, I caught a gleam of her round, snowy forearm and wrist; and when my eyes sought the perfect curves of her form disclosed by the clinging silk gown she wore, I felt that I had sinned in looking upon her, and I was almost glad she could not see the shame which was in my face.

“Cousin Malcolm, are you waiting?” she asked from midway in the staircase.

“Yes, I am at the foot of the steps,” I answered.

“I called you ‘Cousin Malcolm,’” she said, holding out her hand when she came near me.  “Pardon me; it was a slip of the tongue.  I hear ’Cousin Malcolm’ so frequently from Dorothy that the name is familiar to me.”

“I shall be proud if you will call me ‘Cousin Malcolm’ always.  I like the name better than any that you can use.”

“If you wish it,” she said, in sweet, simple candor, “I will call you ‘Cousin Malcolm,’ and you may call me ‘Cousin Madge’ or ‘Madge,’ just as you please.”

“‘Cousin Madge’ it shall be; that is a compact,” I answered, as I opened the door and we walked out into the fresh air of the bright October morning.

“That will stand for our first compact; we are progressing famously,” she said, with a low laugh of delight.

Ah, to think that the blind can laugh.  God is good.

We walked out past the stables and the cottage, and crossed the river on the great stone bridge.  Then we took our way down the babbling Wye, keeping close to its banks, while the dancing waters and even the gleaming pebbles seemed to dimple and smile as they softly sang their song of welcome to the fair kindred spirit who had come to visit them.  If we wandered from the banks for but a moment, the waters seemed to struggle and turn in their course until they were again by her side, and then would they gently flow and murmur their contentment as they travelled forward to the sea, full of the memory of her sweet presence.  And during all that time I led her by the hand.  I tell you, friends, ’tis sweet to write of it.

When we returned we crossed the Wye by the stone footbridge and entered the garden below the terrace at the corner postern.  We remained for an hour resting upon the terrace balustrade, and before we went indoors Madge again spoke of Dorothy.